Serafina: Genesis
by Transcendental
Summary: MOVIEVERSE - Set after SM2 - Peter finds a very unique girl. - CHAPTER 4: Past and Present - More history on Serafina, and (hopefully) an unexpected plot twist!
1. Big White Bird

Hello, I'm a 15-year-old aspiring writer (You may call me Trance for short.) and this is my first story on fanfiction. Please reveiw, tell me what you like, what you don't like, whatever. Ideas for future story lines are welcome as well; I'm hoping to make this a continuing story. I apologize for any errors on my part, and I'm no expert on Spider-Man, so I'd love corrections/info. Tell me what you think is going to happen, I'm trying for a few unexpected plot twists, and I need to know what you're expecting...

This story takes place right after SM2 in the MOVIEVERSE. I don't own anything but what I have created and the computer this is written on. If you sue me, you'll be getting pocket fuzz.

_((deep breath))_ Here goes nothing...

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**Serafina: Genesis**

**By Transendental**

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**Chapter One - Big White Bird**

- 11:12 am - ???'s point of view -

_It's warm here... but too hard._ I think to myself as I wake up. _I still feel so tired._ Rolling from my left side to my back, I open my eyes to see something bright and blue above me. _The sky. Why is it so hard to remember things? Where am I, anyways?_ Now feeling frightened, I sit up to look around me. Cluttered floor of gray, short brick walls with buildings peeking up above them. I'm in a large city. I try to remember back as far as I can... but only to get to the time right before I fell asleep. Or, more acurately, was knocked out. _Why?_ I just know I fell. Fast and hard.

I'm in New York city, a hotel's sign says so. _But why? And what time is it?_ I look for the sun. It's near being directly overhead, so probably almost noon. I'll check this place out. See what the city is like, see if I remember anything. Still, I can't fight the female urge to check my appearance before I go galavanting. Scattered about this roof are bits of air duct, boards, things that are unrecognizable, and a steel door. The shiny metal acts as a sort of mirror, and I trot over to it. My hair is messy, and I straighten it out with my fingers. The short blonde strands fall back into place. I look over the rest of me. First my clothing. Pale blue T-shirt, check. Pale blue pants, check. Pale blue shoes, check. And the whole outfit it so lightweight, so form fitting and yet not too snug, that it's like not wearing anything at all. But it has to be that way - it's more aerodynamic. Now for a limb check-over. _Yep, still got all six of 'em. _I can't help but smile and admire my fifteen-foot, pure white wingspan.

Compared to all the gray-brown dirt on the roof, my wings look so... _clean._ I smile, turn around and walk over to the edge of this building. Far below I see a busy intersection, and people milling about the streets. There is only a slight updraft here, but oh well. I climb up on the protective wall, take a deep breath, and fall, wings closed tight to my back, for about three stories. Then, unfurling my wings, I'm jerked upward as I catch the wind. I turn to the left, and steadily rise higher above the city. I look down, no one is noticing me, and I feel rather bad for them. They don't have wings. I don't mind a good walk, but flying sure is faster.

- 11:30 am - Peter Parker's point of view -

"Sure MJ... yep... uh-huh... I will be... K, bye. I love you too." I hang up the phone with a smile. All yesterday evening I was with Mary Jane, talking, answering questions.

"Peter!" Aunt May calls out.

"Coming," I say, making my way around a stack of boxes in her new living room. The apartment she moved into is smaller than the old house, but homey and clean. Exiting the yellow-walled room, I walk down a short hallway and into a small, blue-toned bedroom. "What do you need?"

"Oh, if you could just move the dresser to the corner, you can go off and do what you like."

As I'm gently easing it into to the corner, Aunt May keeps talking.

"I overheard your conversation with Mary Jane," she says mischeiviously.

"You overhear everything."

"It's my job. It sounds like she knows how you feel about her... finally."

I turn around. "Yeah," I say with a nod. "Yeah, she does."

"Well good, I'm glad for the both of you," she says, smiling sweetly. "I know you'll treat her better than all the other boys she's been with. After all, just look at how well you treat me."

"Aw, I'm happy to help Aunt May. If there is anything else you need just give me-" _Oh wait. The phone's been disconnected._ "Er, I'll call you when I get my phone back up. Then you can call me whenever you need something."

Suddenly her face has a concerned look to it. But I don't want to worry her with my financial situation now that she's finally got her own worked out.

"I've got to get going, so see you later."

"Yes, and you look out for yourself. You never know when that eight-armed hooligan might pop up again."

Of course he's gone now, poor guy, but I agree with her and give her a hug before leaving.

In my apartment I look through my latest photos. Wildlife, human life, hero life. With a sigh I stick them into a yellow file and head for my apartment door, automatically taking my camera and slinging it's strap around my neck. First, I peek my head out. No sign of my landlord. His door is shut. So I slip out and start for the stairs.

_((fwoom!))_ His door opens. "Rent?!"

"Soon!" I yell over my shoulder as I begin to run down the stairs.

Outside on the busy streets it's a sunny day, and I head for the Daily Bugle.

- 11:45 am - Harry Osbourne's point of view -

_Oh, what to do?_ I sit up and wince at my headache. _What an awful hangover... And that laughing. It just won't go away._

"Harry?" The butler questions on the other side of a locked door.

"Not now, Bernard." I say, irritated.

"But your appointment with-"

"Cancel it. Cancel everything for today."

"Very well sir."

_What-to-do-what-to-do-what-to-do? Avenge my father, kill Peter?_ I pick up the cold glass cylinder filled with green human performance enhancing liquid. _Hey, kinda looks like a glow stick... But what should I do?_

- 11:45 am - Peter Parker's point of view -

"Peter! Where've you been?!" J. Jonah Jameson starts talking quickly and loudly as soon as I enter his office.

"Helping my Aunt May move sir," I manage to say before he asks something else.

"I hope you brought me photos that are more interesting than moving trucks."

I toss the file on his desk, and immediatly he starts going through them.

"Crap. Crap. Crap. What on earth is this?" He holds up a picture of a boy in a park, holding a balloon and eating ice cream.

"It's a kid in-"

"You know what this is? It's crap eating crap." The photo is tossed aside and he picks up a picture of me. Well, me as Spider-Man. "Ah-ha! A good one... I'll give you 300 for all of 'em... I can't beleive that guy came back."

"At least he rescued Mary Jane..."

"What difference does it make?! She didn't marry my son, she left him! For--" he stopped himself and looked at me accusingly.

"Hey, it was her choice Mr. Jameson."

"I suppose... Just goes to show how you can't trust anyone! I'll tell you what you can do to make it up to me. A woman came in here with one of those camera phones, and she had taken a picture of some sorta big white bird. Darned thing was blurry, but if you can get a good shot of it maybe we can get people to fall in love with nature and I'll be able to use those ridiculous squirrel pictures you keep bringing me."

"I'll try my best." _Something to get the focus off me!_ I cash in the check and head out to begin my search for the mystery bird. _I should talk to Harry sometime soon too..._

- 11:50 am - ???'s point of view -

Flying against the wind to slow my landing, I set afoot on top of some musical joint - the 'Daily Bugle'.

This is irritating. I just can't remember things right now. I remember water, a lot of it, probably an ocean, at night. I remember a huge widescreen TV with a great sound system, and I'm watching it with someone. And I remember fancy china plates with gold filigree around the edges. _There's gotta be something that would make me remember._ Flying around for nearly an hour hasn't helped any. Nothing seems familiar here.

I'm dissapointed and thirsty. But I probably shouldn't be seen, so I can't go and get a drink from the public fountian I spotted while I was gliding around. Scowling, I sit down on the flat roof and rest my wings a bit. _Funny. This music place sure sounds like a factory._ Suddenly a bit of knowledge from times past floats into my mind. When I was young, someone was telling me about my ears. A wiry, black man. He was a cook... I concentrate hard on the memory, and at the same time pull at my pointy ear. _"With ears that big, I bet you hear all sortsa things. The Master's sayin' you got better hearin' than all of us, so quit pretendin' not ta hear me when I yell at'cha for eatin' cookies before dinner!" _He had said, in a good natured way. But try as I might, that is all I can remember right now.

I tilt my head to crack my neck, catching part of a conversation: "-moving! We have five minutes to get the afternoon edition of the paper out!" a man shouts. _Oh... newspaper. Not music._

I decide to head back to where I was this morning, since I'm not accomplishing anything by flying around. Instead I'm getting hungry. With a sigh I take off, using landmarks to find my way back.

- 12:00 pm - Peter Parker's point of view -

The Daily Bugle building is shaped like a wedge, with the road forking and running along either side of the establishment. Standing in front of it I watch the sea of cars go by me for a moment. Taxis, sport cars, old trucks, buses. _I should go to Harry's. Maybe have lunch with him,_ I think with a frown. I turn on my heel to head for the cross walk.

An orange-lighted hand tells everyone to wait, and cars keep going by. I look around me. It's a nice day out, not too hot, and not many clouds in the sky. A jet plane streaks across the sky, leaving a cloud-like trail. I watch it, a speck in the sky, and it soon disappears behind the Daily Bugle. I check to see if a certain little white man says it okay to cross yet. Nope.

I look back towards the sky. A flash of white is caught in the corner of my eye. Not the plane. Way too big. Traffic has stopped, and people to cross the street, but I'm studying the fleeting object. _Definitely a big white bird._ Harry can wait, I decide, and I cross the street in the opposite direction I had planned on. On the sidewalk I steadily increase my speed to a jog and then to a run. But it's still getting away.

Leaping over a crate of fruit set outside a store, I cut down an alleyway to use a road that's a bit less crowded. Running-running-running. And then it's gone. I stop to catch my breath. _Great._ I faced a network of streets to my left, and a network of tourists to my right. _Maybe it landed somewhere._ I doggedly set out to find it. Suddenly the people start thinning out, and I come into a less wealthy area of NYC. _Really, I'm only going to find it if I'm on the same level it is, _so I quickly climb the escape ladder of an old, tall hotel.

- 12:10 pm - ???'s point of view -

I find the building I'm looking for, land, and seat myself on an old stereo speaker. _What's going on?_ I think desperately, and tears come to my eyes. I rest my head in my hands, covering my ears to shut out the noise of the city, and close my eyes. I'm thirsty, hungry, tired, lonely, and my right shoulder is begining to ache.

- 12:15 pm - Peter Parker's point of view -

Scanning the rooftops for a peculiarly large white bird, I eventually come across something that looks something like what I have in mind. I look around for any people that might notice a guy taking a shortcut by jumping from roof to roof. Taking a chance, I leap from the hotel to an opposing building. Four rooftops later and it's just one more building to go. The mystery bird is partially hidden by an old box spring and even older refrigerator, but a feathery white wing is in full view. I doubt Mr. Jameson would be satisfied with a shot of the _back_ of the bird, but if I get right in front it will probably be scared away. _Or it might think I'm a snack._ I decide to use a from-the-side approach, and make another leap.

The time I land on the building's wall, clinging to it. I make my way to the other side of the brick building as quietly as possible. Using one hand and my legs to cling to the wall, I use my other arm to pop the cap off my camera's lens and shove it in my back pocket. Slowly I peek up over the brick safety wall around the roof. What I saw was nothing like what I expected.


	2. Sunday Paper

You must forgive me for not getting this up sooner. I had computer trouble. Expect the next chapter sometime next month - because of school. (Sorry!) I'll try to get it sooner, but...

Thanks so much for the reviews - on the very day I posted this story! It made my computing day.****

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Chapter Two - Sunday Paper

- 12:18 pm - Peter Parker's point of view -

Except the wings. I expected to see big white wings, but not on the back of a girl, a kid no less. I just sat, stuck there with just the top of my head poking above the wall, and took in what I was seeing. This thing, hunched over, didn't notice me. Her blonde hair is short, and she is holding her head, elbows on knees. If there was ever such a thing as elf-ears, she has them. Dressed in blue, her outfit is tight, but not in a skanky way. And she's crying. Not all-out sobs, but sniffling and tearing.

People (human or not) with extra limbs - especially those on the back - aren't to be trusted, I had concluded a few days ago. But she seems harmless enough. Carefully I swing over the wall, where I'm now out of view thanks to a heap of old boards. I take my camera off a hide it under a plank, then get up and cautiously make my way closer.

I guess she heard me after all. All at once she jumps up and spun around to face me, at the same time backing closer to the three-foot wall. Not saying anything, she just stares at me with big ice-blue eyes. Now that she's standing, I can see how toned she is. Petite but muscular.

"Uh, hey, you alright?" I finally manage to say.

No verbal response, but her jaw tightens and she swallows. I waited for what seemed like a full minute.

"Sorry to startle you."

"It's alright," she said very quietly.

I was actually surprised to hear her voice. I almost thought she'd be some sort of alien, or a mute kid. But she didn't say anything more.

"My name's Peter Parker."

Once again, no verbal response, but she gave me a quick look up and down.

"So... what are you doing up here?"

"Taking a break. Converting oxygen into carbon dioxide... What are doing up here?" Now I could detect a hint of curiosity in her voice.

"Um..."

A smile crept onto her face, and all at once she looked relaxed. She took a few steps towards me, making a distance of about 6 feet between us. Obviously she knew I had no good answer.

"I'd tell you my name but I honestly can't remember it right now," she said with a wry smile.

"Really?"

"Uh-huh," she continued with a shrug. I guessed her to be 14 to 16 years old. "All I remember is bits and peices of stuff, so I've been trying to find something to make me remember whatever happened. Unfortunately I've just been flying around for about, oh," - she cast a glance towards the sun - "say an hour, and am feeling hungry, tired, and discouraged," she said in a cheerful manner.

_What am I supposed to say to that?_ After a pause she keeps talking.

"So tell me, why are you really up here? I won't be offended or anything."

"Well..." I begin, slightly hesitant. _Aw, what the heck._ "I'm actually a photographer, for a newspaper, and my boss thought you were a, some kinda bird. He sent me to get a picture. At first I thought you were a bird too."

She laughs a that. "Not surprising," the bird-girl says. "Honestly, I'd probably let you take my picture if I could just remember things."

I raise my eyebrows in surprise. "_Really?_"

"Really-really. But I can't even remember my own name at this point. Maybe later."

_I sure hope she means that. But what should I do? I feel bad for her..._ "Hey, you said you were hungry, want a sandwich or something?"

She bit her lip. "I don't want to be a bother."

"Hey you're going to let me take your picture once this mess is straightened out, right?" - she nods - "Considering there's pretty much no _other_ way for you to get a meal safely, I think it's a good trade."

"Alright."

"Can you follow me-"

"Save your breath. Long as you don't take any subways I'll be able to track you just fine."

"Okay, when I get to my apartment building circle around it - I'll come out on my balcony and you can come in that way."

"Deal."

I retreive my camera and take the rusty escape ladder down. She pumps those huge white wings and is soon a white smudge in the sky, circling around and following after me. I only make one stop, at a newspaper stand, and use my Daily Bugle Freelance ID card to get myself a free paper. This is Mr Jameson's idea of a raise. I get the Sunday edition for October 17, 2004, and it is blessed with full-color photos.

- 12:30 pm - ???'s point of view -

_Well that was interesting,_ I think to myself as I follow my new friend Peter. At least I hope he's a friend.

This following business is tedious. I keep having to slow down, circle, and try to get slower air currents so I can keep an eye on him.

- 12:30 pm - Mary Jane Wattson's point of view -

"_Yyyyyesss!!"_ I shout as I come out of the studio, onto the busy streets of New York City. Passerbys remain indifferent as always, and my little victory dance goes unoticed.

'The Importance of Being Earnest' is coming to a close, and I've gotten a new role in 'Lady Windermere's Fan' as Lady Margaret Windermere, which will pay a bit more, and is going to be a fun play. I've got to go tell Peter!

- 12:45 pm - ???'s point of view -

Finally he goes into a building, and I circle around, and around... until he comes out onto a small rusty fire escape-ladder platform. I make a quick dive in hopes that no one sees me, and dart inside his little apartment.

- 12:45 pm - Peter Parker's point of view -

I get to my home, followed by a speck in the sky. I run upstairs, and pay my landlord, who is playing poker and watching The Wheel Of Fortune way too loud. I also say hello to Ursula the Skinny, who is atempting to make some sort of turkey dinner. Then I go into my place, set the paper and my camera on top of the mini-fridge, throw my dirty clothes in a drawer, straighten the bed sheets, and step outside. I wait a moment before seeing a sort of missile drop from the sky. I jump out of the way and my tag-along comes in.

"Do you like peanut butter and jelly sandwiches?" I ask hopefully, since there really isn't anything else to eat.

"I... don't know..." she says. "I _think_ I might."

I start making them and Birdie, as I've nicknamed her in my head, wanders about the apartment a bit, not phased it's dinginess. Eventually she starts looking at the pictures jammed into the edge of my mirror's frame.

"She's pretty," she remarks, pointing to a strip of MJ pictures. "Is she your sister, or friend?"

"Girlfriend," I say happily, spreading grape jelly over the bread. "Her name is Mary Jane."

"And is this your family?" Birdie asks, pointing to an older portrait taken at the Wal-Mart studios.

"Yes, that's me, Aunt May, and... the late Uncle Ben."

"You don't wear glasses anymore."

"Nope, not for a couple years now."

"That's cool."

I finish her sandwich, slap it onto a plastic plate, and she starts eating it while I make my own.

"This is really good, thanks."

"Thank Jif and a two-for-one sale, but your welcome."

I look of realization comes over her face.

"Good Moms Choose Jif!" she says excitedly. "Right?!"

"Yeah, that's what they say, but try to keep it down, okay?" I didn't want someone to notice.

"Sorry," Birdie apologizes quiety. "But I remembered something!"

"You think you have some sorta past dealing with peanut butter? Maybe you... _smuggled_ it, and after the job was done they wiped your memory." I say jokingly, and then begin to eat my sandwich.

"Very funny," she says dryly. Then her elf-ears prick up, somewhat like a dog's, and she looks towards the door. "Someone's coming."

I listen carefully and can hear a particularly creaky step being pressed down. "If they come here go out and hide on the roof, okay?" I tell Birdie, and she nods. We both hold our breath as the footsteps aproach my door and... someone knocks. Birdie puts her plate down with it's corner of sandwich on the bed and zips outside.

"Who is it?"

"Peter! It's me!" I recognize MJ's voice immediatley, and my heart skips a beat.

I open the door, sandwich in hand. "MJ!" She looks great, dark blue capris, a tight red tank top, and strappy red sandals.

"Peter!" she says again excitedly, then hugs me tightly. "I got the part!"

"Th-that's great! . . . What part?"

- 1:00 pm - ???'s point of view -

I sit on top of the roof, listening to the conversation below me easily.

"Silly, I'm playing Lady Windermere in 'Lady Windermere's Fan'. I told you that." 'MJ' says. I'm guessing this could be Mary Jane, his girlfriend.

"Oh, right, that's great! When does it open?"

"In the begining of November."

"Come out and celebrate with me."

"Well..." Peter says hesitantly.

_Don't just leave me here!_

- 1:01 am - Peter Parker's point of view -

_How will I get out of going with her... maybe I should just tell her... but what if Birdie doesn't like it?_

"Something wrong?"

"No..."

"Then what is it?"

"I can't go right _now_..." I say, latching the door.

"You're eating sandwiches, for crying out loud, and-" I cut off her exasperated remarks.

"Look, MJ," I say, a little more curtly than intended. "I found a kid when I was out taking pictures, well, not really a _kid_ kid, but I'm looking after her right now..."

"Aww... that's sweet of you. Is she invisible?" she says teasingly.

"No, she's outside on the roof."

"Peter! That's not safe! How old is this kid?!" She starts to head towads the fire escape balcony, but I take hold of her arm.

"No! She's safe. Calm down. Just wait a moment, stay here."

I head out on the steel grate and look up to see just the edge of roof.

"Hey..." I call up, not sure what to call 'Birdie'. Her head pokes into view with a _"Yes?"_ look in her big eyes. "You know my girlfriend - in the pictures - she's here now... would you mind meeting her?"

She thinks about this for a moment, and poor MJ looks very confused. "Is she... trustable?"

"Most definately. In fact, let me ask her," I turn to Mary. "Can you keep a secret?"

"Yes. Just get her down from there," MJ says, worried and impatient.

"She said yes, are you going to meet her?"

"Alright." With that she jumps down, doing a sort of flip in the air so she lands on her feet, facing inside. MJ is in shock. "Hello!" Birdie says cheerfully, folding her wings tightly and stepping inside.

- 1:03 pm - Mary Jane's point of view -

_Not really a _kid_ kid. In fact, not really a _human_ kid. _Still, she is pretty. Platinum blonde hair in a pixie cut, porcelain complexion, around 5-foot-3 and curvy enough that she'd make a great model. But she's got wings! And pointy ears! And her eyes, icy blue yet bright and incredibly clear, have got to be the biggest I've ever seen.

_Where on Earth did Peter find her? And how did he bring her home?!_

- 1:03 pm - Peter Parker's point of view -

MJ looks from Birdie to me, then back at Birdie. "Who are you?" Mary Jane finally asks her. Birdie just shrugs.

"Don't know my name but it's nice to meet you," Birdie says with a smile, and she extends a hand.

"She's got amnesia," I explain as they shake hands.

"Oh... I see... That's too bad."

There was a rather akward explaination of things, and then everyone was more relaxed. I made a sandwich for MJ, and the girls chit-chatted.

"So you can really fly?"

"Yep. I'm glad I remember how..."

I hand MJ her sandwich.

"Thanks Peter. Hey I heard there was a plane crashed out in the ocean or something."

"Yeah, it's all over the front page." - I get the newspaper - "Take a look."

My guests look at the front page, titled 'No Survivors in Private Jet Crash'.

Birdie's eyes widen in horror. "Oh my God."


	3. No Survivors

Ah, finally... another chapter! Things are settling down with school, from the looks of it, so I should be able to write more now. Yey! At any rate, please review - it keeps me going.

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**Chapter Three - No Survivors**

- 1:10 pm - ???'s point of view -

I read the headline, and see the wreckage of a plane sticking out of the Atlantic Ocean. Memories come flooding back, bits and peices, but making sense now, and it actually hurts. Like being stabbed in the head and heart with a dull knife. I close my eyes tightly and clench my jaw. _No way. That couldn't have happened. He can't be dead... But it's true, it's true! I remember the fire._

"Read it," I tell them, trying to keep my voice steady. "Please read it out loud."

Mary Jane begins: "A private jet belonging to Dr. Matthew Rawling crashed early this morning..."

_Morning flight, started at 4 am. Headed for Washington D.C._

"...due to debris entering the left engine. The plane left it's southbound course and went into a tailspin, crashing into the ocean in a ball of fire. Neither the Pilot or the plane's sole passenger, Dr. Rawling, age 67, survived..."

_That's not true. I was on that plane too._

"...the pilot will have to be identified by his dental records. Story continued on page 2," Mary Jane finished.

I sniffed a bit, still with my eyes squeezed shut, and willed myslef not to cry, scream, or hurl myself out the window _without_ spreading my wings. I went over the event in my head.

That morning we were headed to Washington, me, Matt - like an adoptive father to me, a pilot he hired and payed a bit extra to keep his mouth shut. Matt had a meeting with the president, or the General of... _something_. Maybe both. Matthew didn't really want to talk about it. So off we went. I got bored, so Matthew started a game of Go Fish with me inside the high-class jet. It was an important game, the winner got to choose the in flight movie we'd watch, and I was dead set on seeing French Kiss (which was funny since we were on a plane), whereas Matthew would have chosen a John Wayne western. But suddenly, _fffwack-ack-ack-boom_! An engine sucked something in, chopped it up, choked, and exploded. The fire quickly made it's way from the left wing to the body of the plane, where it ate up leather seats.

_"I'll fly you both out!"_ I told Matthew, as I started to yank the door open (we were low enough to not get sucked out of the plane involuntarily, as made evident by an exploding window). And then the cockpit burst into flame, and I knew there wouldn't be any hope for Don, the pilot. _"Come on!"_ I yelled, jerking the door open and reaching for Matthew.

_I almost had him._ The thought was like a blow.

He started towards me, only inches away from taking my hand, when the plane lurched to the right, and my suitcase, a huge, black thing filled with a week's worth of clothing and belongings, came hurtling towards me. It pushed me out the door. I held _it _instead of Matt, shocked and appalled. What was left of the jet's right wing came by and hit me hard in the shoulder. So down I fell, useless. And eventually unconscious.

I sniffed once more, and a tear escaped to run down my cheek. "I remember my name."

- 1:10 pm - Peter Parker's point of view -

Uncomfortable situations. I've had so many of those in my life. Talking to Harry, listening to Aunt May blame herself, having to sit through an hour-long meeting with Mr. Jameson while wearing a Spider-Man suit under a business suit - I thought _that_ was uncomfortable. But _this_? Finding a teenager who doesn't remember anything other than Peanut Butter commercials, who I don't really know anything about, and watching her break down in my own apartment when she sees an article in the paper that obviously has allowed her memory to come back. Now _that's_ uncomfortable.

I'm used to seeing people break down, but I'm a Super-Hero then, I go and save their kid, or their parent, or even their dog, and then everything's fine again. And I don't have to show a look of sympathy, concern, whatever - I have a mask on; if I'm scared, I look scared. And right now, with this slight twitch under my eye and clueless expression on my face, I'd love to have that stupid mask on.

MJ get's done reading, and I look to her pleadingly. _She's_ a girl, surely she must have _some_ idea as to what to do. A guesture to wait a moment, and I feel much more releived. And soon enough, sniffling little Birdie looks as if she can tell us her REAL name.

- 1:10 pm - Mary Jane's point of view -

_Read, just keep reading._ The words on the page are hard to focus on with this girl here, on the verge of crying, and this boyfriend here, who looks likes he could start crying too. _But read, keep reading._

- 1:15 pm - ???'s point of view -

_Don't cry... gain composure._ I wipe the tear from my face, and open my eyes to see two concerned faces. One has the feminine 'I'm going to wait and see what's wrong because I'm a good friend' look - Mary Jane's. Peter has a 'I'm concerned but really don't know what to do since I'm a guy' look. I swallow, take a deap breath, arrange my sentances, form a plan, and act accordingly.

"In fact, I remember things from when I was two years old as well. In short, no more amnesia," I say in a flat voice, the only one I can manage right now. "I have a lot to sort through, am going to fly things off, and will probably see you later." - I walk out to Peter's fire escape - "Sorry about all this. And my name's Serafina."

With that I swing over the edge, plumeting down before catching a strong updraft, and then rocket into to sky where I can lose myself in the clouds.

- 1:20 - Peter Parker's point of view -

She tells us her name, and with that hops over the rusty rail enclosing the fire escape. Mary Jane gasps.

"Oh God!" she exclaims, not quite used to the fact that Serafina won't become a pancake in a couple seconds. Sure enough the bird-girl goes zooming towards the sky, in a nearly vertical path. MJ breathes a sigh of releif, sets the paper on my twin bed, and contemplates the sandwich she's been holding.

"Well..." I begin.

MJ shakes her head, at a loss for words as well. "I think she lost someone very close in that accident," she finally says.

"I suppose," I say, but can't help thinking, _Unless she caused it._

What a way to start a day. _What about Harry? What about taking her picture? And when, if at all, will she come back?_ Slowly I begin to put away the sandwich makings.

"You look worried, Pete."

"I am," I say with a sigh, "I guess I feel responsible."

"Well, I think she'll be okay. After all, it looks like she can defend herself, and she's pretty happy-go-lucky. I know the sort. They'll be sad and depressed, but don't let it get them down."

I hope she's right.

"But what about Harry?" I ask, rather off-topic.

"What about him?" she asks, confused.

"Well, ya know..."

"Oh! Right," she bites her lip, realizing the situation isn't very promising. "You need to talk to him."

"I was planning to, but now with all this happening... What if Serafina comes back and I'm not here?"

"Leave a note. Simple as that."

"What about you?"

"What about me?! Why are you worried about me?!" MJ says with inflection implying she's getting fed up with my hesitation.

I frown a little, "I wanted to spend time with you, that's all."

She calms right down, and I'm glad I said the right thing. "Then why don't I come with you to see Harry?"

_She's brilliant, absolutely brilliant. I wonder what her IQ is._ I agree to that, and find a piece of paper and begin to write a note.

_How would you spell her name? It's kind of weird. SAR-UH-FEE-NUH,_ I sound it out in my head. 'Sera' comes out on the paper. I take a gamble and add an 'f', hoping it's not _ph_. Then, after some consideration, I decide 'ina' looks a whole lot better than any of my other options.

-----

Serafina,

Out taking care of business, hope to be back by 6. Be careful.

Hope you're feeling better.

Signed,

Peter Parker

-----

"Okay then, let's go."

I take my camera and Mary Jane takes her purse, and together we head out the door.


	4. Past and Present

Hey, look, everybody - proof that the author is actually alive! . . . Beleive me, I wanted to get this up much sooner, but when I was about to post it I realized how badly it needed edited. This may not be the best chapter, but I hope it surprises you! And the more reviews the better! (I'd also like to thank my two loyal readers right now.)**

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**Chapter Four - Past and Present**

- 1:30 pm - Serafina's point of view -

Nothing like being two miles up in the sky. Slowly, aimlessly, I circle around New York City. Not caring where I end up, I go over my life.

My earliest memories are of me when I was three years old, in the basement of our large victorian-styled home on the coast of Maine. I had to stay out of sight - away from windows and such - so the basement was like a house in itself. I was looked after collectively by Edith, a plump maid with graying hair and powdery white skin; Max, an expert computer technician; Eddie, the skinny black cook in his forties; Dawn, my personal seamstress and Edith's helper; and Matt, a retired Doctor.

By the time I was four I had officially decided blue was my favorite color, and insisted my room be painted accordingly. Max, being the youngest guy, had to paint, and I tried to 'help'. In other words the carpet needed to be replaced. I smile at that a bit as I cruise above New York.

Around 5 and 6 years of age I figured out how to fly, and Matt nearly had to tie me to the ground. Somehow, I lived through my trial and error sessions. Even more amazing is that my adoptive family lived through all the stress. A few lamps and ceramics, however, did not survive.

When I turned 7 Matt and Max started a sort of training regimen with me. Matt explained how I was different. _Very_ different. So, in case I ever got in trouble, he wanted me to be able to defend myself.

10 years old. Within the three years of training I could actually beat up Max. And since he was sort of like an older brother to me, I had plenty of opportunity for that.

Over the years other people came over (highly trustable ones, of course) from time to time to help in my training, or just to see how I was doing.

And what can I say, I snuck out of the house numerous times. All it takes is a hat and a coat. I really only started doing that by the time I was 13, though. (I didn't dare leave when I couldn't defend myself. Matt was always worrying that I'd get hurt, and I'm no dummy.) No human can knowingly and willing stay away from the outside world, I suppose. I chatted with others online, but the World Wide Web can't do everything.

And finally these past few months... Preparing for the trip to the White House. Flying to the White House. And never getting there. I feel horrible about it. It is, by far, the worst thing that has ever happened to me. But I'm going to go on with life, I've still got people who love me, and friends here in New York. _Man, the guys back at home must be worried about me. Maybe they think I'm dead._ I've got to call them.

If I can find my blasted suitcase, which I really don't want to have to look at, I'll be able to get my coat, hat, and some money to call at a payphone. Not to mention I'll be able to stop at a mini mart to use the bathroom.

I wheel around, now flying against the wind, and start heading back to where I started, thanks to my uncanny sense of direction.

- 1:45 pm - Peter Parker's Point of view -

On the doorstep of Harry's place I knock on the door. After a moment Bernard opens the huge carved-wood door that leads into the illustrious Osbourne estate. Bernard looks me up and down critically, then does the same to MJ.

"What can I do for you, sir?" he asks, shifting his gaze back to me.

"I was wondering if Harry was home."

"He wishes not to be bothered." The large door began to close.

"But I'm his best friend!" _Or at least I was._

"I'm sorry, you'll have to come back later."

Mary Jane tries to speak up as well. "We really ne-"

_((Tcha-clack))_

The door latched shut. I frown and think about just busting the door down and giving the butler a peice of my mind. I knew who he was - but he didn't recognize me. No wonder, really. I hadn't been at Harry's place for quite some time. MJ sighs.

"You really _do_ need to talk to him."

"Just what I was thinking..." I began as we turned and started down the stone steps, taking her hand in mine. "And you know, there's more than one way to visit a friend like Harry."

We went out the iron gate and I led the way towards the back of Harry's lawn. This lawn is far too large, if you ask me. _It should be a park, not a lawn._

"What's your plan, Tiger?"

"Find a back way in."

- 1:50 pm - Serafina's point of view -

I'm back to where I started this morning - on top of a run-down building. If the suitcase came down with me, no doubt it would somewhere near where I landed. Picking through the piles of rubbish, I find many useless objects. But there! Half buried under rotting planks of wood, I see the end of a large, black leather suitcase. The skid marks in the dirt on the roof show it must have slammed down, flipped over itself, and then slid along until it rammed into a once neat pile of wood. And of course the avalanche of wood came down on top of it. I scowl, and begin to tug at the edge of the case.

After a couple hard pulls it breaks loose, and the boards re-settle. I look at the luggage with disgust. It looks a bit singed.

"YOU!!" I scream, kicking the suitcase as hard as I can. It flips over, now right side up, and I can see how badly tattered the top left corner is. But that doesn't make me feel any pity for the case. Once more I give it a kick. This time it just slides over against the wall. I grit my teeth a bit and contemplate what I'm doing. My mind begins to clear.

_I'm making a lot of noise, and probably damaging whatever I packed. Not good. I've got to stop._ And so I walk over to the big black suitcase and grab the telescoping handing in a much more civil manner. Wheeling it over to a debris-free area, I set it back down and kneel by it, unzipping the side.

I look at the contents inside. It's a big case, and I over-packed, but now I'm glad for that. There are changes of clothes, purses, shoes, makeup, money, and my trusty coat and hat. The bag easily could weigh as much as me. I look down at myself, my keen eyesight can tell I'm covered in dust. _New York air isn't very clean._ I take out the black coat, along with the little black hat that would make me 'normal'. Then I start digging around for some clean clothes. I find a black mini skirt, and match it to a little yellow tank top. I dump the finger nail polish bottles out of my knee high black leather boots, and find some black fishnet stockings. _Yep, I musta packed nearly every artical of clothing I own,_ I think to myself, looking at the huge mound of garments. _I suppose it is for the best now, though._

At the bottom of the suitcase I find a black purse; overfilled with girly items thanks to my ready-for-everything style of packing. I reclose the case and set my new outfit on top of it so the clothes won't get dirty. _Now... how do I get changed around here?_ I looked around at the junk surrounding me. A crooked smile plays across my lips as I come up with a plan.

- 1:50 pm - Peter Parker's point of view -

"Okay... how is this going to work again?" MJ questions me for the third time. She keeps bringing up a potential problem every time I tell her the plan. I sigh, _How much more simple can it get?_

"We cross the hedges, go arond to the back, I climb up the wall, carrying you, and hope Harry is in his office. If he is then we'll go in through the the door to the balcony."

"And what about security cameras? Hired help?"

"MJ, I happen to know that only the Butler will be home right now. And Harry only turns the cameras on at night - his idea of being conservative."

Mary Jane nods. "I didn't know he _had_ ideas."

I roll my eyes. "A few. If he tries really hard."

We come to the hedges at the back of the lot. I start reaching through the pricky bushes, and can feel the chain link fence they hide inside. Slowly I feel my way along, until I get to a section of bush that gives slightly when pressed. "Right here," I motion, showing her the secret doorway in the fence.

"Very clever," MJ comments, slipping through. I squeeze through after her.

Warily, MJ looks around the garden we have entered. "You sure no one will be here?"

"No," I say honestly, and she obviously disapproves. "I'm not _entirely_ sure. Just very-very-very sure."

"Remind me to hurt you later when we aren't sneaking around."

We creep behind bushes, then make a run for the big stone house. After getting to the balcony, we are met by an unlocked door. We tiptoe in.

"Harry? Harry, you here?" I whisper.

MJ gasps. "Look at all that broken glass!" And it is true, broken glass, no, mirror, is all over. And where the floor length mirror should be on the wall, there is a cobwebby tunnel. As I advanced towards the hole, MJ looks over all the scattered newspaper clippings on Harry's deserted desk. Looking away from the hidden doorway, I see something that makes my stomach do a backflip.

"MJ... Harry's dead," I say quietly.

"He's what?!" she whisper-shouts in shock as she tip toes over. Her breath catches as she sees him, face down, lying on the floor behind the couch, pale and unmoving.

For a moment neither of us moved, or spoke.

"No way!" MJ finally says in disbeleif. "He's not really dead, right? He's, he's just sleeping, right?"

"MJ, I know a dead person when I see one," I say gently.

"This is horrible! Why?" She started to walk over to Harry.

"Whatever you do, don't touch him, in fact, try not to touch anything - they'll check this whole place for fingerprints," I said gently.

"So what do we do? Just leave him here?"

"Well, I'm going to take a look in this secret tunnel, MJ, will you please check to see if the door is locked?"

She nods grimly, and heads towards the door while I duck into the dusty passageway. _Oh great._ I see an all too familiar green mask staring at me, and all the rest of Norman Osbourne's sadistic junk. _I was hoping I _wouldn't_ have to tell MJ about this._

"It's locked," Mary Jane calls quietly to me. "Did you find anything?"

"Yeah, I did. MJ... you better come here."

I hear cautious footsteps, and once again there is a moment of scilence thanks to an unsettling truth that has been revealed.


End file.
